Contrary to what I was told when I had to go in for my first (and not last) mammogram, I would like to state that it was nothing like bondage. Yes, my breasts were squished unbelievably flat. And yes, I can see how a breast binder does much the same thing. It, however, is not bondage to me as it was cold, metal, non-consensual, and was not performed by Uncle M.
Wednesday morning, before heading off to the many nefarious things I had planned, I was obligated to take care of the two lovely ladies on the front of my chest. To make myself feel better, I had tied small rope bracers from my ankle to knee under my jeans. The nurse only laughed when I was handed the flimsy little robe to put on before my breasts were compacted. All I had to say was that it was my pacifier and keeping me from crying. (I will admit, being 24 and needed a mammogram is not exactly pleasant).
However, it was the doctor’s expression when he walked in and saw me standing there in a next-to-nothing gown and rope covering my legs that made my morning. I don’t think he’s ever seen something quite like that before. But I promise, it won’t be the last time. Next time, it won’t be my lower legs.

Brandi

P.S. No cancer! Yay!!!